To Talk In Public, To

There Is Something In Obstinacy Which Differs From Every Other Passion. Whenever It Fails, It Never Recovers, But Either Breaks Like Iron, Or Crumbles Sulkily Away, Like A Fractured Arch. Most Other Passions Have Their Periods Of Fatigue And Rest, Their Sufferings And Their Cure; But Obstinacy Has No Resource, And The First Wound Is Mortal.

The Present Is Never A Happy State To Any Human Being.

Human Experience, Which Is Constantly Contradicting Theory, Is The Great Test Of Truth. A System, Built Upon The Discoveries Of A Great Many Minds, Is Always Of More Strength, Than What Is Produced By The Mere Workings Of Any One Mind, Which, Of Itself, Can Do Very Little. There Is Not So Poor A Book In The World That Would Not Be A Prodigious Effort Were It Wrought Out Entirely By A Single Mind, Without The Aid Of Prior Investigators.

Timidity Is A Disease Of The Mind, Obstinate And Fatal; For A Man Once Persuaded That Any Impediment Is Insuperable Has Given It, With Respect To Himself, That Strength And Weight Which It Had Not Before.

No Man Can Taste The Fruits Of Autumn While He Is Delighting His Scent With The Flowers Of Spring.